#waiting #worstimpulses #whenyouwait #kitisa #moses #mountsinai #thetencommandments #thehebrews #rumors #gold #goldearrings
It is in this parsha of Ki Tisa that the Hebrews, with Aaron's assistance, commit the grave offense of making the molten golden calf. This set of poems tries to imagine what led the Hebrews to this rash and radical decision which results in severe punishment.
I hope that over the next few minutes each of us is brought into that camp as Moshe is delayed on the mountain top.
"Gold, Gold!"
The camp should be quiet.
The day should be peaceful.
But a cloud of unease
has descended;
thick and gray
and vibrating .
The people mill about
loose and untethered,
waiting.
A hum of anticipation is in the air.
The scuff of sandals
running through the camp.
Voices careen
from family to family.
the word "gold" repeats
in voices gruff,
sobbed and screamed.
"Gold! Gold!
Bring your gold!
From your ears,
Gold! Gold!"
*****
Waiting
Waiting for the night to end,
for the storm to pass.
Waiting
for the cloud to lift.
Waiting for the surety
of what is known.
Waiting for trauma to heal
takes a toll.
Waiting
for a man,
a leader,
their leader,
to descend from
a clouded mountaintop
with two carved tablets
seems an eternity.
The rhythmic metronome beat
of thousands of pulses.
All the while the people wait;
patiently at first.
Going about their business;
pretending nonchalance
Rumors scatter like skipping stones
person to person,
group to group.
Ripples spreading outwards
concentric circles of worry.
And they wait.
Sweaty hands folding,
unfolding.
Feet tapping,
nervous twitches,
pacing.
Eyes dart swiftly
left and right,
up and down.
Blinking at the mountain.
Perhaps there are answers
waiting in the clouds?
And then
old nightmares
seep
through
cracks in skin too thin.
Cracks reopened,
never healed.
Unwanted thoughts creep in.
Fears of the unknown
bubble up like
black mud under their feet
Terrors of being unmoored,
untethered,
powerless,
lost in a desert of fear.
One by one
they forgot the drill.
Lessons they thought
were learned
dissipated into the vapor
Hevel,
logic disappeared into the mist.
The clock ticks.
Each minute without him
coax new fears.
Hands sweat.
Tensions edge higher.
Words shoot out,
phrases uttered
cannot be undone.
Actions taken
without thought.
Base impulses
of the lips and the fists.
Action, reaction.
Waiting, waiting!
The incessant hum grows louder,
The cloud grows grayer.
The people more desperate
and the crowd steadily grows.
Tensions rise.
The rule of the mob is here.
"Gold, gold!"
Earrings ripped off ears.
Sweat, screams, laughter.
"Gold, gold!"
The fire rages,
the heat spreads,
faces redden,
demons of the past
control the moment
and around the camp
the words are heard,
"Gold! Gold!
Gold! Gold!"
When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aaron and said to him, “Come, make us a god who shall go before us, for that fellow Moses—the man who brought us from the land of Egypt—we do not know what has happened to him.”
Aaron said to them, “[You men,] take off the gold rings that are on the ears of your wives, your sons, and your daughters, and bring them to me.”
And all the people took off the gold rings that were in their ears and brought them to Aaron.
This he took from them and cast in a mold, and made it into a molten calf. And they exclaimed, “This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!”
Exodus 32:1-4 Translation from Sefaria
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